


Second Meetings

by halocentury



Series: kyluxxoxo 19 [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cadets are Vicious, Canon-Typical Violence, Derogatory Language, Don't Insult the Mama, Don't Think Luke Would Approve, Inappropriate but appropriate use of the force, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, how they meet, twice over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 23:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halocentury/pseuds/halocentury
Summary: He was supposed to be part of the security-detail for the dignitary's speech. But some cadets just can't resist taking the opportunity when their CO isn't around.No one anticipated the arrival of a Force User.





	Second Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Belated submission for Week 2 of kyluxxoxo. The theme is summer job. Perhaps... summer job for cadets? Prompts filled are credit / mission / heat.

The footsteps marched out a distinctive beat, no one needing to strain for the familiar voice of their commanding officer. Yet two of the cadets glanced at one another, demonstrating a restraint they rarely used, smirks and intentions invisible.

“Ugh, I can’t stand this planet. It’s so hot.”

“Yeah, it’s hotter than a whore’s cu-”

“Finish assembling your rifles, not your line.” The door had opened a half-second before rehearsed lines concluded, their commander stepping into the room they were all preparing in. 

Across the room Hux was already prepared, expression bland. He tucked his kerchief back into his chest pocket. The knife he had been polishing he tucked into his thigh strap.

Sweat was beading over his lip but he wouldn’t dab it or attempt to lick it off. It was unbecoming for a First Order officer, let alone a cadet knowing he would be one soon.

They weren’t on a mission per se. They were in their utilitarian uniforms, rather than the polished uniforms they wore on the bridge on a star destroyer or any of their burgeoning fleet, but they were accompanying a dignitary who was about to announce her planet’s allegiance to the First Order. Already a handful of the population was protesting the growing number of the officers and stormtroopers that were taking up residence on their planet.

They were security detail, to ensure that nothing got out of hand during her speech. It was expected to be no longer than half an hour, probably less, but to ensure crowd-control, and to make sure nothing untoward happened towards the dignitary or the planet’s ruler while they stood on the platform, they were brought along.

In all honesty he hoped that the only use he would get out of his rifle was to maim or kill the two idiots opposite him. 

Filing out of their assigned room, it took less than a minute to navigate the corridors. The inner sanction of the governing building did consist of walls but the perimeter of the building had replaced solid walls, be it of permacrete or durasteel, with tall planters between each supporting pillar. The last turn to lead them out into direct air was met with all-encompassing humid, clothes-sticking heat.

Hux refused to cringe, feeling sweat trickle from his hairline down, to the collar of his jacket, upon his ears and across his forehead. 

There may have been a hint of truth to their crass words but he knew what their intentions were by saying it aloud.

The three oldest cadets were separated from their group, introduced to the dignitary, the ruling monarch and their aides, accompanied by their CO before the rest were reminded on their positions. 

If he had been two months older he could’ve been up on the platform with them instead of being assigned to perimeter work. The only advantage he had was the platform, in front of the steps into the main doors of the building, had no shade. At least with the perimeter he would be passing under the flowering trees that edged the public space of the building itself, a small park that was currently filled past capacity. Most stood with interest but there were others; he could see the closed-off hostility in the tenseness of their shoulders and repressed sneers.

He knew the stance from his own constantly sore bones.

The speech began in a few minutes, Hux walking along his assigned southern stretch. Most of the spectators were looking forward. A few spared glances towards him before turning back. He originally carried his blaster-rifle with both hands, ready to hoist and aim, but lowered his arms, carefully slinging it against his side, one hand on the handle, prepared to strike when needed. 

He felt something hit his face, tumble to the ground, a pebble landing between his feet. 

He resumed his pace, not quite march, but sharp and on guard. 

A kid darted across his path, but he didn’t raise his hands to fend him off. A woman was hot on his heels, sending him a harried look, turned frightened, before scampering to grab her charge before they completely got away.

He started to follow them, intending to help, but something grabbed him from behind. He slammed one elbow back on impulse, barely missing his attacker, and was ready to grab a finger of the hand that was slipping from shoulder to grab his neck, but when his leather gloves found the leather gloves of the other he startled for a half-second.

“Bastard son, whoremonger child-”

The words were indication enough had the gloves not been.

A second set of hands smashed the butt end of a blaster-rifle against his temple, hard enough to gouge and stun, red and white splattering across his left eye.

He lost his gloves quickly, for the purpose of getting a proper grip, or at least attempting to. Getting dragged further from the gathering, who were either ignoring the scuffle or truly enraptured by the speech, towards a block of store fronts, all closed for the announcement. 

Curling his fingers around his knife, he managed to stab one of them in the thigh, before they started kicking and stomping on him, upon being thrown to the sidewalk. 

He got to his knees after grabbing one of the feet, a single failed kick for all those that connected. Twisting him into a fall, Hux prepared to stand up, only to be assisted by a stranglehold. 

Tip-toeing to get to his feet, digging into leather hands, releasing one hand to grab at his fellow cadet’s hair, digging into his neck and elbowing back, anything to loosen the hold, his eyes widened when his feet lifted clear off the ground. 

Looking around, gaze blurry for lack of oxygen, the arms around his neck tightening, he saw someone else. Short, but not by much. Probably younger. Dark-hair curled over a face, fringing out from under the hood. Dressed in beiges and browns, a cloak that had seen better days, a hand was extended, fingers curled inwards, tighter until they formed a fist.

Over his pounding blood he couldn’t hear the gasping, straining breath, or the sudden stop and snap.

He dropped to the ground, unprepared to brace himself properly, his wrist bending unnaturally.

Grabbing his kerchief, he pulled it out before unconsciousness enfolded him.

Hux blinked, narrowed his eyes, snatching the blood-stained kerchief presented to him.

Sure enough the monogramed initials were there.

_F.T._

“Do you think I’m going to give you credits for returning this all these years later?” Hux asked, curling his fingers possessively around it.

Even now he didn’t see the boy’s – man’s face – though this time it was hidden by a helmet.

“Once I heard that was how you gain favour with a lady,” the distorted voice explained.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” Hux huffed before striding away.

Yet Hux knew how that story ended, when he lost consciousness.

Had the boy stayed behind, cleaning up his wound?

In his quarters, stroking the blood, wondering how often the Kylo Ren did the same, he decided he may have to give him a second chance.


End file.
